The door to the church was open. It was covered in blood, holes peppered throughout it. There were bodies all around. Leah, Mark, old Bernard, they were all dead. There was a body in the doorway, propping open the door.
Voices could be heard from inside, people crying, pleading for their lives. They peeked through the gap in the door. Gabriel grimaced at the sight.
There was dead bodies everywhere. The 3 raiders had propped the dead bodies up on the pews as if they were attending a sermon. One raider was standing at the pulpit.
"Their deaths were not in vain, for now we have food!"
The two remaining raiders sitting on the pews cheered, before looking at the bodies with malice, licking their lips.
"Our brothers will come back soon and prepare the feast! Bring the bodies round back, Now!"
Gabriel stared in disbelief, not understanding how these raiders were so unruly. It seems they had truly adapted to the apocalypse.
"The one standing at the pulpit." Michael pointed at the raider, "He killed our Father."
"What? No that wasn't him" Gabriel was confused. That man didn't kill their father.
"That's him, Gabriel. You seriously don't remember?" Michael was convincing Gabriel.
"Maybe I was too scared at the time to remember?" Gabriel started to ponder, what if that man really was the one that killed their Father?
"You were, I remember. You were too busy crying into my arms like a baby."
'Is that actually what happened? I really don't remember anymore. Is Michael telling the truth?'
Gabriel was confused. He didn't remember what happened anymore. He felt rage, but to who? Michael, or the raider?
"You're lying." Gabriel's tone was assertive.
"Gabriel. That man killed our Father. Look, he even has the same scar on the right side of his face." Michael pointed again.
'It's true, he has the same scar, or was it on the left side. I-I can't remember.'
"Y-You're right."
Gabriel was filled with rage. The man that killed his Father was standing right in front of him. He wanted to do something about it. He wanted to kill him. Gabriel loved his Father very much, although he was an alcoholic, he was still his Father.
Gabriel was overcome with emotion, all he wanted to do was kill the man standing in front of him.
Crack
Gabriel shot him. The bullet separated the air at breakneck speed, piercing the mans skull. The other raiders came rushing into the room screaming.
Michael raised his gun.
Crack Crack
The two remaining raiders dropped to the floor at the same time. One being so large, he broke the wooden floor of the stand, falling right through.
The man fell directly into the basement, cracking his head off the floor. Blood spattered everywhere in the basement.
Michael and Gabriel went to the back room, walking past the pews filled with dead people. Gabriel was gagging, all of his childhood friends, and anyone he knew, was dead here. Their bodies mutilated by the raiders.
The church seemed to be where they were taking all the bodies after killing everybody.
The back room was filled to the ceiling with bibles. There were body parts everywhere. Gabriel vomited. Michael was unbothered.
The foul smell of the already decomposing bodies assaulted their nostrils, they grimaced at the smell, it made them feel sick.
Gabriel wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his stomach still twisting. He forced himself to look away from the piles of rotting flesh, breathing through his nose to stop the bile from rising again. The room was dimly lit by a single flickering candle on a crate in the corner. Shadows danced across the bloodstained walls.
Michael, standing beside him, let out an unimpressed grunt. "They've been at this for a while," he muttered, stepping over a severed arm like it was nothing.
Gabriel clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "They butchered them… like animals."
Michael shrugged, his tone eerily casual. "That's what happens when you let the weak die first. The strong get hungry."
Gabriel shot him a glare. "Don't talk like that."
Michael met his brother's gaze, unreadable. "It's the truth."
Gabriel tore his eyes away, scanning the room. Despite the overwhelming horror of it all, his mind worked through the next steps. The raiders had mentioned others coming back to prepare the "feast." That meant more of them were out there—armed, dangerous, and hungry. If they stayed here too long, they'd be next.
Gabriel's fingers tightened around the grip of his pistol. "We can't stay. More will be coming."
Michael let out a short laugh, stepping past the bodies. "Who said anything about running?" He knelt down, pulling a rifle off one of the fallen raiders. He inspected it, nodding in approval before slinging it over his shoulder. "I say we wait. Kill the rest when they get here."
Gabriel looked at him, shocked. "Are you insane? We're two people against who knows how many."
Michael smirked. "We took out three. What's a few more?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Michael, this isn't about getting revenge. We need to survive."
Michael's expression stayed unchanging. "You think they deserve to?" He gestured to the bodies in the pews, his voice low and sharp. "You want to let them keep doing this? Let them move on to the next town, the next group of survivors?"
Gabriel hesitated. He hated how right Michael sounded. Gabriel wanted to kill all the raiders, he was hesitant about their numbers. They didn't know how many there was.
"There can't be that many left, we've already killed nine of them"
"Don't think about it, just help me barricade the doors," Michael continued, moving toward the entrance. "They'll be back soon, and I want to be ready."
Gabriel exhaled sharply. His heart was pounding, but it wasn't fear anymore—it was something heavier, something that made his hands shake. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He didn't know which feeling was stronger.
But then he looked at the bodies again. Leah, Mark, Bernard—all people he'd known since childhood. He remembered Bernard giving him candy as a kid. Leah had helped his mother with laundry when she was too sick to do it herself. And now they were all just… meat to be eaten.
Gabriel's grip tightened on his pistol.
"Fine," he muttered. "But if this goes sideways, we leave. No matter what."
Michael grinned, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "That's the spirit."
"Don't hit my shoulder like that! It hurts."
Together, they moved to block the entrance, the stench of death thick in the air, as they prepared for the monsters that were on their way.
They grabbed everything they could to block the front door. Gabriel's arm still in immense pain, he carried smaller items like chairs. Michael brought over a wardrobe, blocking the door fully.
"That should be alright," Muttered Michael.